Her Voice Is Full of Money
by Lyrical Ballads
Summary: On a dull November evening in 1923, Lucy Hamilton met Beni Gabor. A oneshot companion to Beautiful Little Fool.


**Disclaimer:** I do not own _The Mummy. _The quote used below belongs to Oscar Wilde.

**Author's Note:** This is a oneshot connected to a full-length story I wrote called _Beautiful Little Fool_, which is based on F. Scott Fitzgerald's _The Great Gatsby. _I actually planned to write this little story weeks ago, but I somehow lost my motivation and put the idea aside. Then I saw the film adaptation of _The Great Gatsby_ (which is perfect in every way!) and all my motivation returned, and now I'm in a major Gatsby mood. So here's a little backstory on Beni and Lucy, because they're just so much fun to write. (Also I totally borrowed the phrase "drunk as a monkey" from Fitzgerald's novel, because that expression is just too great and I couldn't resist.)

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**Her Voice Is Full of Money  
**

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"The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it."  
_- The Picture of Dorian Gray_

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"Let's do something exciting tonight," Lucy Hamilton begged, putting out her cigarette in the nearest ashtray. "Something positively ___wild_. I'm so tired of drinks and cigarettes and hearing about boring old Egypt."

It was a dull, cool evening in November of 1923, only four months after Lucy's family had left their grand home in Chicago and settled in Egypt's dusty, noisy capital, and Lucy had spent those four long months becoming acquainted with every bar and pub that allowed a bright, unmarried woman to sail through its doors on youthful wings. The Gray Heron was exactly the sort of dim, smoky little place she loved to get lost in, but the smoke had grown stale as the evening wore on. The cocktails tasted bland, the conversation became tired, and the lovely, exciting cluster of men that sat at her table started to look no different from the men she had left behind in Chicago. Even Rick—dear, wonderful Rick O'Connell, who knew everything there was to know about firearms—had lost some of his glamor as the evening wore on.

"There's my buddy Beni over there," said Rick, using his empty whiskey glass to point across the bar. "Just got back from Algeria."

"Algeria?" Lucy said with a laugh. "I hardly even know where that _is_!"

"You wouldn't like it, Luce," said Calvin, whose straw boater hat would have been unfashionable in Chicago at that time of year, but suited Egypt's continuously hot weather perfectly. "Algeria's overrun with Froggies."

Lucy gave him a little swat with her purse. "I _like_ Froggies, you dunce. Their accents are adorable."

"I guess they are, after you've heard Beni Gabor talk for an hour," said Calvin's cousin Archie.

"What's wrong with the way he talks?" said Lucy.

"He's got a funny accent, is all," said Rick. "He's Hungarian."

Her blue-green eyes grew round, her cherry-red mouth open in wonder. "I've never met a Hungarian before."

"You ain't missing out, honey," said Archie.

"Let _me_ be the judge of that," Lucy said with a wink. "Everyone knows that a girl can never resist an accent."

She didn't think she would be interested in meeting a friend of Rick's, but this Beni fellow intrigued her. Rick and the others were all perfectly nice and made such marvelous company, but one man started to blur into another after a while, and she was _so_ terribly bored that evening. She longed to escape the dark, smoky confines of The Gray Heron and cut loose like she had never cut loose before, throwing all inhibition to the wind.

"I think he heard us," said Rick, looking across the bar again. "He's coming this way."

"Plug your ears," said Calvin, grinning at Lucy.

The man who approached their table was nothing like the tall, handsome Americans who usually flocked to Lucy's side. He was the kind of man who lurked in dark alleyways back in Chicago, the kind of man her well-bred parents had always taught her to avoid. He crept through the bar like a rat scurrying across a cellar floor, an unremarkable scrawny figure with nervous blue eyes and the thinnest mustache Lucy had ever seen. His eyes darted back and forth as he approached their table, a half-smoked cigarette clutched between his fingers, and he finally broke into an uneasy grin as he found an empty seat.

"How was Algeria?" said Rick.

"Not bad, my friend," said Beni. He had the most curious whine of a voice, his accent making every word sound strange and brand-new. "You can have dozens of French whores without having to sail all the way to Paris."

Lucy stared at him in shocked delight. All the other men she knew didn't dare mention _whores_ (the very word sent a thrill up her spine) in the company of a lady. "What was he doing in Algeria?" she whispered to Calvin.

"He got caught in bed with some highfalutin archaeologist's wife," he whispered back. "Had to skip the country for a little while."

"Somebody's wife slept with _him_?"

"Darned if I know how," said Archie. "She must have been drunk as a monkey. Only way she could stand him."

Beni's nervous blue gaze settled on Lucy and his lips curved into a smirk. She could sense wicked things in his smile, the sort of wicked things that prompted him to casually mention whores as if he were commenting on the weather, and she found it impossible to tear her eyes away. He wasn't handsome in the least bit, not even after the cocktails she had sipped that evening, but she couldn't look away from his face. His wicked smirk held her prisoner.

"Who is this?" said Beni, indicating Lucy. "A new friend of yours, O'Connell?"

"This is Lucy Hamilton," said Rick. "She's from Chicago."

"Like I say all the time, O'Connell, you always did have more ba—"

Rick abruptly kicked Beni under the table, cutting off whatever he was about to say.

"What the hell was that for?" Beni whined.

"You know, I think you've got the most darling accent I've ever heard," Lucy told him. "I've never heard anything like it."

Beni's smirk grew wider, promising all sorts of unspeakably sinful things within the space of a single smile. "If you think it is so darling, then you will take me to the bar and buy me a drink."

"Oh, you really _are_ funny!" she cried. "I'm not going to buy you a drink, silly. Everyone knows the man is supposed to do the buying."

"Well that is not how it is done in my country. In Hungary the woman always buys."

"He's pulling your leg, Lucy," said Rick. "Don't listen to him."

"I don't see the harm in buying him one little drink," said Lucy. "It's so perfectly dull around here, I'm dying for _something_ I've never done before." She slipped out of her seat and stepped lightly over to Beni, who looked like even more of a funny little foreigner now that he was right in front of her. "Doesn't that sound like fun?" she told him. "You can teach me how to order in Hungarian!"

Beni didn't look as if he found that fun at all. He watched her suspiciously, like he expected her to do something outrageous, and let out a sarcastic little laugh. "And how do you know I won't teach you to say something filthy instead?" he asked.

"You wouldn't really do that. Would he, fellas?" said Lucy, turning to Calvin and Archie.

"Sure he would, Luce," said Calvin. "Why don't you come back over here and I'll tell you all about the twister that flattened my neighbor's house."

But Lucy had no desire to hear about a commonplace story from a commonplace American. She was tired of Americans, who were a dime a dozen, she was tired of Arabs, who spent half their time praying and the other half trying to scam tourists, and she was tired of Englishmen, who overran the city like a horde of ants. She was _especially_ tired of Englishmen, who reminded her too much of a dear, charming man who was never dull and always made her feel like she was the most special, extraordinary girl in all the world.

Her heart still ached for Jonathan now and then, but she wouldn't let his memory cast shadows upon her evening. "Make sure nobody steals my seat, will you, Rick?" she said, giving him a sparkling smile.

"Sure thing," said Rick, though he was frowning. "Watch your purse," he added.

Lucy didn't know what he meant and followed Beni to the bar, delighted with her own boldness. The man was as ugly as they came, but he was _so_ odd and funny and different from everyone she knew, and she was dying to know more about him. "What do you want to drink?" she asked as she seated herself on a bar stool.

Beni looked her over, another one of those devious little smirks on his lips. "The most expensive thing on the menu."

"And why should I buy you that?"

"Because you are rich."

"How do you know I'm rich? We just met!"

"I pay attention," said Beni. "I know you are rich because your dress looks like it cost a lot of money, and it is made from very good cloth. Also your necklace and your earrings are made from real rubies. I know what real jewels look like."

"That's very impressive," said Lucy. It occurred to her that Beni likely had no money at all. His clothes looked ragged and faded, like he wore them constantly, and he gazed openly at her jewelry with the hunger of a man who craved fine things because his pockets were always empty. "But I can be observant too, you know." She winked at Beni, disguising the pity she felt at his poor old rags. "And something tells me I should buy you that drink."

"How generous of you," said Beni. Sarcasm made his funny accent sound even funnier. "Are you this generous with your American friends?"

"I've never bought them a drink, if that's what you mean."

"That is not what I mean."

The bartender asked what they wanted and Lucy ordered the most expensive cocktail, just like Beni wanted, and got a little something for herself despite the empty glasses she left behind at Rick's table. One more drink couldn't possibly hurt. "What _did_ you mean?" she asked as the bartender turned around to fix their drinks.

"I wanted to know if you are screwing any of your nice American friends," he replied.

Lucy gasped and gave him a playful little shove. "How perfectly rude of you! That's not something to ask a lady you just met."

"You did not answer my question."

"And I'm not going to. You're just being a pest on purpose, aren't you?"

The bartender brought them their drinks and Lucy watched Beni take a greedy gulp of his cocktail. "Do you like it?" she asked.

"What does it matter?" said Beni.

"I bought you an expensive drink, Beni. I want to know if it was worth the money."

"I still don't see why it matters. You won't even notice you spent any money."

"Oh, you're being difficult again," said Lucy, though she was enjoying herself more than she had in days. "Teach me to say something in Hungarian, will you?"

"Like what?"

"I want to know how you order a mint julep."

His frown was just as comically charming as his accent. "What the hell is a mint julep?"

"It's a drink, silly. You make it with whiskey and sugar and mint, of course, and it's delightful on a hot day."

"We don't have that word in Hungarian."

"Well you _should_," Lucy declared. "But never mind that. I still want to learn how to say something."

She finally coaxed him into teaching her how to order a shot of whiskey in Hungarian, though he kept snickering at her every time the strange words left her lips. She couldn't tell if he found her pronunciation funny or if he had tricked her into saying something ridiculous. She was having too much fun to care. By the time she finished her cocktail and started on another, Beni began to look a little less ugly and everything he said seemed a little more funny. The smoky little bar had become a brighter place, an exciting corner of the world where anything could happen.

"Tell me, Beni," she said in an eager whisper, leaning in towards him. "Did you really get into bed with an archaeologist's wife? Because that's what my friend Calvin told me and I _have_ to know if it's true."

Somehow Beni had convinced her to buy him another expensive drink, though he drank the second one down just as greedily as the first. "Yes, it is true," he said smugly.

"And that's the reason you went to Algeria?"

"Her husband was going to kill me."

"Really, truly?" said Lucy. "He was actually going to _kill_ you?"

"He almost did, but I'm very fast. I hear he and his wife are in Peru now, so that's why I'm back in Cairo."

"What about the wife? Did you love her?"

"Love and fucking have nothing to do with each other," he scoffed.

She didn't even flinch at his language anymore. "Of course they do. Haven't you ever been in love?"

"No. It is a waste of time."

She thought of the lovely hours she spent with Jonathan in England, only to have it all snatched away. "Maybe you're right," she said softly. "But I hope you're wrong."

Beni watched her with steady, calculating eyes, looking far too sober for his own good. "I know I am right. And I think you would fuck somebody you didn't love."

"Why's that?"

"You're rich, that's why. Rich women will do anything."

"Not _anything_, darling," she giggled. "Even us rich women have our limits."

"People with money do not have limits."

"You know an awful lot about money for someone who won't even buy his own drinks," said Lucy. "Are you secretly a billionaire in disguise?"

His laugh was bitter. "If I was, I would not waste my time here."

Lucy vaguely wondered how long she had been sitting at the bar with him. She felt lighter than ever, fed on an intoxicating mixture of alcohol and the peculiar sound of Beni's voice, but her head was starting to ache a bit and she wanted to lie down. Oh, how she wanted to lie down someplace soft and cool, someplace where she could be lulled to sleep by the exquisite thrill of a jazz band. It had been far too long since she had felt the touch of jazz.

"You wouldn't mind terribly if I slipped outside, would you?" she asked Beni. "I just _have_ to get outside or I'll absolutely die in here."

"And that would be such a tragedy," said Beni.

"And since you seem so interested in expensive things, you're welcome to come outside and see my car," she said with a wicked smile of her own. "I think you'll like it. Oh, but I really ought to say goodbye to Rick first. Rick is _so _good, but of course you know that if the two of you are friends."

She managed to pull herself away from the bar, away from Beni and the fascination he sparked within her like the lighting of a thousand cigarettes, and bid farewell to Rick and the others. "Oh no, Archie, you don't need to drive me home!" she cried, laughing as she refused his offer. "I live just down the road. I can get myself there in a jiffy!"

"He treat you all right?" Rick said under his breath, giving Lucy a light touch on the arm.

"Who?" Lucy said innocently. "The bartender? He's a perfect doll!"

She blew them all a kiss before she stepped outside into the chilly Cairo night. She could breathe a little easier, though the fresh air did little to clear the fogginess in her head, and she spent an age wandering about in search of her car. She could hardly believe it was November. Soon it would be Christmas, and then the New Year, and then she supposed that Rick would go off on that trip around the world he always talked about, off to see foreign places and bustling cities full of strange, fascinating people. She found her car and opened the driver's door when a figure emerged from the shadows, startling her until she recognized the tiny mustache above his lip and the shifty way he walked, like he had been born to creep about after the sun went down.

"Beni, there you are!" said Lucy. "Do you really have to sneak around like that? You'll give somebody a heart attack that way."

"So this is your car," said Beni, gazing at the shiny exterior of her cream-colored Pierce-Arrow. Lucy didn't like to drive, but she disliked public transportation even more, especially in a city like Cairo, and her car had faithfully taken her to dozens of nightclubs and theaters since she first began driving it in Chicago.

"It's a lovely car, isn't it?" said Lucy. "That's what everyone's always telling me. The loveliest car this side of the ocean."

"I bet it looks even nicer inside."

"Would you like to see it?"

"Yes," he said. "I would like that very much."

He yanked open the back door as if it belonged to him and slid into the backseat, running his hands over the smooth leather. Lucy followed him inside and settled herself beside him, glad to be someplace comfortable at last, and realized that she had never sat in the backseat of her own car before. She didn't even know why she had a backseat.

"Isn't this thrilling?" she whispered to Beni. "I feel like we're going to the opera. All we need is a driver!"

"Shut the door," said Beni.

She obeyed him and closed the door, shutting herself off from the world outside, and gasped when Beni turned her head towards his and kissed her. Since her arrival in Cairo four months ago, men had wooed her and complimented her and bought her anything her heart desired, but she hadn't been kissed so boldly and so thoroughly in ages, not since she lived in that far-off dream where Jonathan was so close and she believed that the whole world was theirs for the taking. She responded to Beni, desperate for something she had lost long ago and supposed she would never get back, and didn't resist when his hands began to wander, teasing beneath her skirt and fiddling with buttons and laces. She didn't fight him when he coaxed her onto her back, pushing her onto the soft leather seat of her car, and something about the way he touched her—some sense of desperation that reminded her of herself—made her want him.

She had bobbed her hair a few years before, defying the rapidly crumbling ideals of her elders. She had danced to jazz late into the night, drank bootleg liquor among gunmen and gamblers, painted her lips cherry-red and shortened her skirts to the knee. Surely giving herself to a stranger in the backseat of her car was no less scandalous, no less daring, than everything else she had seen and done in her short, wild lifetime, and she surrendered fully to Beni, letting him do as he pleased for as long as he liked.

When it was over she pulled down her skirt and looked up into his eyes, losing herself in that wicked gaze that had captured her back in the bar. She didn't know what to say, so she tried to catch her breath and said nothing at all.

"I told you women with money will do anything," said Beni.

"This won't happen again," said Lucy, finding her voice. "You know that, right? It won't ever happen again."

But Beni just looked at her and snickered, laughing at some private joke he refused to share, and his laughter echoed in her ears long after he had slammed the door and gone.


End file.
